looking back before the last 1000 miles
Looking back, there’s been a periodicity to my daydreams.
The first few weeks of the trip were filled with reflections. What it had been like to plan this trip and leave, second guessing if I’d left work with a good handover, parties and get-togethers, studying my undergrad and masters, old school friends. I riffled through a mix of happy memories and less happy mistakes while I cycled through the leafy hills of Virginia and Missouri. A tinge of homesickness mixed with anxieties about the success of the trip.
But those anxieties faded into familiarity with eating, sleeping, biking, repeating. At the same time, my daydreams shifted to a more mindful state. I was more present. The lessons from podcasts in my ears muddled with my attention to the ride. Cycling through shifting scents of pine and dust, narrow country roads and wide highways, the was sun consistently to my back and sweat down my forehead. I was too far from the end to comprehend finishing and the depths of America were novel and thrilling still. Remaining focused on the day-to-day shaded me from self-doubt that surrounded finishing, so the miles passed with minimal stress and maximum satisfaction.
Recently though, my daydreams have shifted to the future. The near future - how it might feel to finish (a prospect that felt achievable once I reached the highest peak of the trail). The slightly near future - how I might cope with medical school and moving house (exciting, sort of on the cusp of a dream becoming real). The far future - iterations of lives to live, all unlikely but possible events that could unfurl from the present (specialities to choose, mountains to climb, policies to change). At the distant edge is what retirement might look like. How my nieces and nephews might grow into adulthood, if my parents are still around, what my current relationships could look like and how new ones might blossom. It’s easy to see where inspiration from the words of others have led these daydreams; cool examples from retirees, kind actions from strangers, honest conversations permeated with grief. A lot of people have already lived the years ahead of me, and their experiences create seeds to imagine from.
But this isolated trip, with a clear beginning middle and end has provided a structure to lazily explore the past, present, and future. Such self indulgent daydreaming has brought into frame that which I currently value, how I’ve changed (or what of my character has remained), and how harmless my thoughts are these days. As someone who battled Anorexia (and related Depression and Anxiety) then grappled with PTSD symptoms after being raped, the positivity that pervades my wandering mind was once unimaginable. At 18 I somewhat accepted that I’d always be a little too close to mental illness. Now at 24, I realise there isn’t an “always” when it comes to mental health.
Like the periodicity of my daydreams, (exploring the past, present, and the future) to maintain my mental health I must balance these perspectives; appreciate the past to learn compassionately, live in the present to immerse in experiences, and consider the future to step into it eagerly. Ruminating on one for too long, and giving too much weight to the chatter and landscape of thoughts, hinders the plasticity that seems key to resilient mental wellness. At least for now.
